Amber Eyes
by Behindthebook08
Summary: "Dresses were supposed to have high necks and sweeping trains—they were not supposed to be skin tight, strapless, or scarlet, and they certainly weren't supposed to be backless. She quirked an eyebrow at his obvious perusal of her body and held a small glass out towards him, the shimmering amber liquid matching the mischievous glow of her eyes." One-shot, Hermione/Remus, Light M.


**A/N: Another short piece for your enjoyment. A bit different from my usual writing, but I like it. I hope you do too! Please let me know what you think!**

* * *

Drowsy music drifted through the overcrowded ballroom and Remus found himself glancing down at his pocketwatch helplessly, wondering if he could get away with faking an illness. It would be considered impolite to leave so early—but really, what was he supposed to do in this crowd?

A Ministry party, celebrating the retirement of one of the Hogwarts Board of Governors; he was meant to make cheerful small talk and laugh politely at their jokes. He was supposed to _charm_ the members of the board. A few hours of polite conversation with the ministry officials, war heroes, and board members—then Minerva couldn't complain about his less than sociable tendencies. She had told him that if he wanted to be considered for a permanent position at the school, he had to allow himself to be known, allow the board and the general public to see him as something other than a hermit and a monster, and show them how intelligent and charming he could be.

Charming? Had she met him? He wasn't charming; he was barely tolerable in this sort of situation. According to most, he was condescending and aloof—something the purebloods didn't appreciate when it was coming from a dirty half-breed like himself.

He was only acquainted with a handful of the attendees, and they were all preoccupied with their significant others. Unlike him, they found the droning music charming and the chilled champagne delightful. They loved the pretentious hors de oeuvres and the well-dressed employees.

Remus was less impressed. Where they saw high class splendor, he saw uninteresting over-indulgence. Where they saw glamor, he saw people who couldn't hold a proper conversation to save their lives. He saw boredom.

The curse of being a Marauder in a room full of ex-prefects.

It didn't help that there were only two days left until the full moon, so his blood seemed to boil within his vein and buzz with untapped energy. The day before his transformation was always full of illness and discomfort, but with two days to go he just felt restless and over energized—full of manic energy with no way to dispel it.

One more hour—then he could go home and read a book, instead of pretending to be interested in the gossip which seemed prevalent at this function.

"Firewhiskey?" A smooth voice called from the bar. He looked back and felt his mouth drop at the sight of the beautiful brunette. She wore a figure hugging red dress, muggle in design, and entirely unseemly at an event such as this one. Dresses were supposed to have high necks and sweeping trains—they were _not _supposed to be skin tight, strapless, or scarlet, and they certainly weren't supposed to be backless. She quirked an eyebrow at his obvious perusal of her body and held a small glass out towards him, the shimmering amber liquid matching the mischievous glow of her eyes.

His eyebrows rose upon peering into her eyes, surprised by what he found there. He took the glass and smiled as he sipped it, "Interesting," he whispered.

"Indeed," she said, a small smirk forming on her ruby painted lips.

"It's lovely to see you, though Ministry functions don't exactly seem like your scene. What are you doing here?" he asked causing her to laugh lightly.

"The same thing you are, of course. Minerva told me I couldn't work at Hogwarts unless I charmed the Governors—something about my being a terrible hermit."

"You're applying for a position?"

"Several," she winked, causing his face to heat up.

"You've changed since I last saw you," he remarked.

She shrugged, swirling her own drink with her straw, "Puberty can do that to a girl," she drawled, causing him to laugh slightly.

"It hasn't been quite that long."

"Not since we've seen each other. We see each other regularly. But since we had a _real _conversation? Nearly," she smiled. "Four—five years now?

He nodded and glanced back up into her amber eyes, remembering their original inquisitive chocolate brown clearly. He sighed lightly, "When?"

A small frown marred her complexion, obviously displeased with the change in conversation, "The War—when else?"

He shrugged, "I'm sorry."

"Don't be." She said firmly, swallowing the rest of her drink swiftly. "I'm over it."

"You seem to be handling it better than I ever did," he noticed, taking note of her unscarred shoulders and mischievous eyes.

She smirked again, "I accepted it—that makes it easier."

"Acceptance? That simple, is it?"

She moved closer to him, her eyes looking up from under dark lashes in a way which could only be intentional, "It's not so hard, Remus," she whispered, allowing a finger to trail down his neck and chest, "You just have to let the wolf out to play sometimes."

He shivered at the contact, and there was no confusing what she meant.

"Hence the dress? The drink? The lips?"

Hermione smiled widely as she sipped at her magically refilled drink, "You noticed, I'm glad. And yes, that's why. She knew you were going to be here tonight, and insisted."

"And you really don't mind letting her be in charge, letting her control you?" He asked nervously. He couldn't remember single time that he had ever let the wolf control him, not once in the thirty years that he had been infected.

A troublesome grin spread across Hermione's face, "Well, sometimes she has the nerve to do things I would never do," she said, pausing for effect, "Like attempting to seduce my former professor."

"Oh?" Remus coughed, causing her to smirk.

"Sure, I would let my fingers brush over his when he lends me a book, or make sure to buy coffee from the same place every Friday morning; because I know he'll be there. But I would never _flirt_, and certainly never wear something like this," she said, gesturing to the alluring dress.

"So it's not just the wolf who is interested?" he asked carefully, "It's you too? It's also Hermione?"

"Oh yes," she purred, her body moving effortlessly closer, "It's certainly me as well. I've been salivating over you ever since I hit puberty." He allowed his head to drop to her level as she whispered into his ear, "Absolutely dripping as you discussed the most recent Charms and Transfiguration discoveries with me. Completely distracted all the time—from a simple laugh, a bit of intelligent conversation, a smile. The wolf just decided to act on that desire."

Remus swallowed hard, his glass making an unnecessarily loud noise as it clinked against the bar.

"Dance with me," she simpered, setting down her own glass delicately, and holding out a hand.

He took it unhesitatingly and allowed himself to be pulled across the room, eyes never leaving the vixen that had entranced him. With a flick of her wand the music changed and the ministry elite glared about, willing the enthralling music to stop—but it didn't. It picked up speed and he suddenly felt himself being pulled flush against her and as she stepped away again his wolf begged him to let it out to play with the vivacious creature that spun energetically around him.

With a snap like a rubber band, he felt his control loosen and suddenly the beat began to thrum in his veins. He felt his feet pick up speed of their own accord, and his hands pull her towards him quickly. His heart pounded uncontrollably as her chest connected with his in a delightful friction and her careful hand wrapped itself around the back of his neck, toying with the hair that brushed against her fingers and laughing freely as he spun her away from him once more.

Their dance continued for several long moments, drawing the eyes of the other attendees as their tension mounted and the moved desperately and freely against each other.

It wasn't until they were in a lift and on their way to her rented room—her back pressed hard against the wall and his erection nestled against her dazzling heat— that he felt himself in control again. As her lips and teeth attacked his neck, and his mouth explored the delicious mounds which heaved from beneath her dress—it was at that moment that the wolf seemed to allow Remus to regain control.

There was a time when Remus would have stepped away—when he would have disappeared as the lift doors opened and apparated to his humble apartment for a good dose of shame and firewhiskey—but that wasn't who he was tonight. Tonight he was the lucky fool who had caught this scarlet vixen's attention and he didn't plan on letting that go.

* * *

**Thanks for reading, please review!**


End file.
